


Beau and The Beast

by Ill_write_it, Iron_Mage



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ill_write_it/pseuds/Ill_write_it, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Mage/pseuds/Iron_Mage
Summary: The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast? Beau, not Beauty.





	1. Chapter 1

Beau was not a simple man. He liked adventure, had wild and crazy dreams and when he wasn't reading he was creating mad machines and inventions with the aid of his ageing father. As he headed into town he pictured his latest mission, to fashion a chair. But no ordinary chair, a moving one! To help with his fathers loss of mobility, the old watchmaker was becoming more and more fragile with each passing month and Beau feared for him come winter time. The cold seeping into his elderly bones. The path to the village was well trodden and the lack of mysterious side turns bored him, God, it was just dull. He sighed in boredom.   
Within the quiet village morning activities had begun, a baker - cart over flowing with bread made his way across the town square while a woman bartered for eggs at a market stall. Beau navigated his way through the chaos. Almost crashing into half of the occupants of the town but gracefully saving himself at the last moment. He smiled and waved at the sweet girl who worked in the bakers and then headed into the book shop, the chime of the bell announcing his arrival. "Beau! Back already?"   
"I couldn't stay away." Beau laughed, he was a lean boy, with dark messy hair and blue eyes: a combination which appeared to render half of the women in the town breathless. His eyes lit up as the bookshop keeper got down from his ladder to fill something in on the counter. "Anything new?" Beau asked excitedly as he clambered up the ladder and swung across the shop.   
"Not since yesterday." The shopkeeper laughed. Beau frowned comically and began browsing his favourite section; fiction.   
"I guess I'll borrow this one!" He said triumphantly retrieving a well thumbed volume.  
"But you've read that four times already!"  
"But it's my favourite! The part where the prince reveals himself and..."  
"If you like it that much you can keep it." The book keepers kindness creased at the side of his eyes.  
"Really?"  
"Really."  
Beau pulled him into his arms grinning from ear to ear.  
"Thank you, thank you!" He cried, leaving the shop and heading back up the street.

Opposite him at the tavern end of the town square stood Gaston, obnoxious, handsome, hubris Gaston. With a filthy mouth and a disregard for the dignity of the opposite gender. In fact a disregard for everyone. He did not understand respect, only how to receive it without earning it. He spotted his new favourite play thing, Beau. The handsome little inventor's boy. "Le fou! Le fou!" The short fat man came tumbling to the huge feet of the glorious beast of a man and Gaston hauled him up with his bulging muscles. "I'm going to fuck that man." He pointed to Beau who was idling taking a seat in the town square with a coffee and croissant. "I'm going to fuck him, le fou. Because I deserve the best. Don't I deserve the best."  
"Yes Gaston."  
"Right from the moment that I saw him, met him. I knew I wanted to tap that ass. He's the only thing in this town as beautiful as me." Gaston checked his teeth in the mirror, licking away a piece of greenery and then turned his predatory grin on le fou. Who was struggling under the weight of a large pheasant Gaston had shot that morning. "Yes Gaston," Gaston's grin grew wider as he strode over the fountain.

"This is my favourite part." Beau said to no one in particular as he went to sip his coffee, sighing. The cup was empty. He closed the book and then headed back over to his favourite cafe. "Thank you mademoiselle."  
"No problem Beau." She giggled flirtatiously but Beau was blissfully unaware as he waved goodbye and headed back home to finish his new-old book somewhere more private, without the distraction of the villagers meaningless chatter.   
"Gaston?" Beau said, surprised as he found his gaze resting solidly on the shoulders of Gaston's signature red tunic. The man was almost two heads higher than him, which was very intimidating.   
"What have you got there?" Gaston asked pulling the book out of Beau's hands. "How can you read this?" He tipped it upside down trying to decipher the pages. "There aren't any pictures."   
Beau reached for the book but Gaston had discarded it to the floor. Beau retrieved it. "Pretty little arse you've got there, Beau."  
"excuse me?" Beau replied, shocked.  
Gaston grinned. "What's a pretty boy like you doing reading something like that when you could be on the arm of someone like me?" He paused, raising an eyebrow. "In the bed of someone like me."  
"I'd really... I'm not..."  
"Come on Beau," Gaston wrapped an arm around Beau's waist. "Let me show you my trophy room." He winked.   
"I really can't, I have to get back. My... My father! He um. He needs help with something." He stuttered.   
"Maurice?" Gaston said, flabbergasted "the crazy old man, Maurice."  
Le fou was by his side and they were both laughing. Beau blushed.  
"My father's not crazy!"  
"Yeah Le Fou!" Gaston hit Le fou so casually it frightened the timid Beau, who took this opportunity to flee walking away at speed.  
"Beau!" Gaston called after him but Beau didn't turn around. Nor did Gaston leave the safety of his blessed town. 

"Pass me that... Thingy ma Bob." Beau casually reached into the tool box to retrieve the tool his father was requesting. "How was town today."  
"It was... Nice, I just." Beau sighed, "I wish I had some real friends around here, that's all."   
"What about that-" Maurice paused, wrenching a bolt round. "What about that Gaston fellow? He's handsome."  
"Yes and rude and ignorant and... Ugh. He's no friend of mine Papa."  
"Hmm." Maurice said, there was silence for a few more minutes as Beau went over everything that had happened in town with Gaston today, he may be an attractive man, but he was hideous on the inside. "It would be nice to have someone understand." He sighed, thumbing the edge of his book.   
"Oh it's no good! I'll never get this thing to work!" Beau's father interrupted his quiet pondering, Beau doubted that he had even heard him.  
"Yes you will! And you'll take it to the fair and be the talk of the town, talk of the darn country!" Beau said, jumping off the work bench and putting his book safely on a shelf.  
"You really think so?" Maurice asked, seeming unsure.  
"Of course I do! You'll get it working in no time!" Beau gestured to his father's project, a mechanical log cutter. Slumped sadly in the middle of his workshop,   
"Yes! You're right Beau! I'm going to get this thing working!" Maurice brought his hand down hard on the machine and it jumped to life, chopping logs. His eyes widened in shock and surprise and as did Beau's   
"It works! Beau it works!!" He leapt up and down, holding Beau's upper arms firmly with his own.


	2. Chapter 2

On the day Beau's father was to head out to the fair it was warm. Beautiful sunny weather. And Philip the horse was dying for a nap. "Come on Phillip!" Beau said, tacking him up with gusto. "You're going to pull a world changing invention!" Beau tried to motivate the old gelding but nothing seemed to work. Beau sighed, attaching Phillip to the cart as his father emerged, carrying a bag full of maps. "Did you remember your lunch Papa?" Beau asked nuzzling Phillip's neck, Phillip responded. Beau scratched behind his chestnut ears.  
"Yes! Yes." His father replied, climbing into the cart and patting his satchel. "Safe journey!" Beau said hugging his father.   
"Take care son."  
Beau waved his father off into the woods, he was going to miss him for the next three days. Then he headed back inside to gather his things for a little adventure. 

Beau was set, a map, a rucksack with enough food for at least a days adventuring, just as he was about to leave there was a stern knock at the door. He spied through the peephole his father had designed. Gaston, he sighed.  
"Hello Gaston." He said pushing the door ajar.  
"Why hello Beau." Gaston forced his way inside Beau's cottage. I should never have opened the door! He thought to himself. Beau backed up against the fireplace, reaching for a weapon - if Gaston's advances were anything to go by, he was here for a reason.   
"Why are you here Gaston?" Beau said agitatedly, a little fearful.   
"Imagine this." Gaston plonked himself into one of Beau's chairs, "My cabin, sheep skin rugs. You -" he kicked off his muddy boots and rested his stinking feet on Beau's book. Beau rushed to rescue it. " massaging my feet." He wiggled his toes. "Massaging me though my pants. I'm sure you'd enjoy it. I can make all your dreams come true Beau."  
"What do you know of my dreams?" Beau scoffed, although he was terrified. He had one hand resting firmly on the poker.  
Gaston chuckled. "I'd imagine they involve me, naked, fucking you against that darn bookshelf of yours. Hmm?" He was so close to Beau that he could smell the gentle flowery scent of Beau's soft hair, he ran his hand through Beau's locks and cupped his face. Beau tried to pull his hand away.   
"I think you should leave." Beau said, terribly frightened. "I want you to leave."  
"Hmm?" Gaston said, pushing himself against Beau.  
"G-get off me!" Beau kneed him in the groin and pushed him away. "Leave me be Gaston!" He threatened him with the fire poker, Gaston looked surprised as he backed out the house clutching his junk. Beau locked the door and collapsed against it. He was shaking with fear. What if- what if? He began to cry...


	3. A place to stay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Maurice...

Wind whistled though the trees, "This way Phillipe." A weakened voice called through the fog. "This way, I'm sure." The horse threw its head in argument. Instinctively protesting to his master’s wishes.   
A man, his cloak wrapped tightly around him, pushed his horse further into the darkest part of the forest. "Come on Phillipe, it's a short cut. I'm sure," He tried to sound confident but the cold had stolen that from him. He urged his steed onwards into the velvety blackness.   
Sharp sticks grabbed at their clothing as they made their way, muddy puddles trapping the wheels of the cart. The man's back was splattered with wet, brown mud and the horse's hind quarters were not much better. He dragged his cape even closer to his shivering body. This wasn't right!   
"Where have you taken us Phillipe?" The white in the horse's eyes reflected the dim moonlight, a similar reflection could been seen in between the trees. Except it looked decidedly yellow, the man was startled when he realised. Wolves.   
Phillipe bolted, the man clutching his mane for dear life, knowing he had little control over the direction and just hoping that Phillipe's instincts would carry them far from the imminent danger. He was out of luck. The wolves chased them, hunger in their yellowing eyes. Claws creating turmoil in fallen leaves and scratching along trees as their fought one another to their prize. Their snarls and howls filling the silence of the night. Dread building in the pit of his stomach, he dared not look back.   
One of the more adventurous wolves reached Phillipe's back legs and he whinnied in pain, his eyes widening and head raising in distress, urgently kicking the creature away. Another replaced it, and Phillipe's previous tactic was far less effective. He reared desperately as more wolves bit into his flank.   
The man tumbled to the ground, his hat falling from his head. Barely conscious he was just able to register a hard hoof coming in contact with the back of his skull and the soft ground meeting him with the same speed as the hooves galloping away, cart in tow.   
He awoke to a quiet snarling. The wolves; having given up on their pray, an unhindered horse being too fast for their fickle legs, had returned to the old man. He stood slowly, wheezing with the effort. Why had they not attacked? He looked about himself, surrounded by trees and in the pitch black. Except, his jaw dropped in amazement, beautiful wrought iron gates, the pattern so wonderfully intricate. Surely the entrance to some grand manor, or...was that? A castle in the distance, lit by the moon. It looked heavenly. He failed to notice the hideous gargoyles, he didn’t see the dark menacing brick. Nor the pair of eyes watching him from the tower window, behind torn curtains that fluttered in the wind.   
He didn't have time to process what was happening, the wolves had decided that whatever invisible force that had been holding them back came second to their ravishing hunger, they were upon him. He scrambled to the gate, it was stuck; the hinges glued with century old rust. He pushed harder with urgency he’d never felt before as a wolf dragged his leg out from under him. He felt dizzy with relief as the gate fell open and he launched himself into the safety of the manor, kicking away the wolf and losing his shoe in the process. A small sacrifice – he thought.  
That was when it began to rain. Heavy droplets soaking though into his bones, and through his sock on his shoeless foot, the wolves howling in disappointment. He made his way up to the door of the castle as a mighty roar shook the ground around him, he must find shelter.   
Pounding on the door, knocking with all his remaining strength. Wordlessly begging for sanctuary, for help. Someone, please.   
The door fell open. Had someone invited him in?   
"Hello?" He called, making his way anxiously into the huge room, a candle his only light. Could he hear voices? Perhaps it was haunted... He shivered, it was colder in here then it was outside! He clutched the candle to his chest and made his way across the floor. "Hello, I lost my horse in the forest? I just need somewhere to stay though the storm, please, is there anyone here?" He could hear a floor board creek in the sullen silence. "Hello?" He called out nervously. The hammering of the rain was dull, he could hear every step. What sounded like shoes, with perhaps steel toes...  
How strange, if he didn't know better he would say he could hear claws...  
The candle was blown out by a sudden gust of wind and the shivering old man was plunged into darkness, the castle walls were so thick that no one could hear his scream.


	4. Chapter Four

Beau had long since climbed off the floor and ran to the meadow, his favourite place to hide from the world, from jerks like Gaston.   
Gaston, Beau shuddered at the thought of the ghastly man. Coming into his home…threatening him with….that! Beau hugged himself, suddenly feeling a whole lot less safe. Violated even. He almost cried, this meadow was his place! Gaston was spoiling it. The very thought of him polluted. Ignorant, spiteful, self-centred…   
The sound of thundering hooves interrupted his thoughts. A horse, cantered through the forest; cart in tow. His father! He shouldn’t be home for at least another day. Perhaps things at the fair had gone wrong? Phillipe burst into the clearing.   
“Phillipe? Woah, boy.” Beau soothed the frightened horse, catching his reins just under his chin and stroking him. Unable to ignore the white in his eye. What had he seen? Beau talked to him gently and began to lead him back to the house. “Where’s papa?” He asked distractedly, looking back into the forest. Waiting for his father to emerge, flustered from the excitement of a bolting horse. He didn’t.   
After he had watered and fed the horse he began to gather a few essentials. Beau’s father was still nowhere to be found and it had been almost two hours since he had caught Phillipe. “Sorry boy,” he said as he tacked him up for the second time that day. Phillipe didn’t bat an eyelid. Beau praised him for his eagerness to help in the search for his father.   
They headed off at a trot into the forest.   
What if he had been thrown from the cart, and was lying somewhere…incapacitated, hurt..dead? Beau’s thoughts became more negative as more time progressed. He had searched all the pathways his father could have taken within a couple of miles radius of the house. But, it was beginning to get dark and soon it would be impossible to find him. He consulted the map again. “I suppose there’s nothing for it Phillipe. We’ll have to follow the path to his destination, and see if he fell earlier than I estimated.” He sighed and pressed Phillipe onwards into the woods. Sceptical of his father’s scribblings.   
“This isn’t a short cut. Why would he have gone this way Phillipe?” He asked when Phillipe stopped dead at the crossroads. Wolfs howled menacingly in the distance. “Alright.” He said quietly, allowing Phillipe to lead him into the woods. “If you’re sure.” They followed the path, Beau brushing twigs from his hair as they passed under tendrils of trees- he was sure they were reaching for him, trying to grab hold and pull him to the ground. Phillipe was fearful and spooked twice from the groaning woods.   
They followed the creepy path all the way to the gates of a huge castle. Hideous gargoyles adorned the high walls, and no light shone from the windows. Mist cloaked the top of the castle, but it looked to Beau as if it could rise forever. It was utterly terrifying.   
Beau dismounted gracefully and looked around, his eyes widened when he saw it: His father’s shoe. The other side of the great iron gate. His father had been here. “Papa?” He called into the forest, no response but the distant cry of a lonely wolf.   
“Come on Phillipe.” He lead Phillipe onto the bridge with trepidation. Who would live in a place like this?   
The castle was cold. Beau pushed the door closed. Perhaps it was abandoned? “Hello? I’m looking for my father… Hello?” He called out, it echoed on the stone walls. He used the moonlight to search the room and found a candle stick. He lit it with the nearby lighter and continued to search the castle, approaching the winding staircase. It wasn’t trespassing, right? Beau tried not to think about the legal consequences of his actions as he searched for any living inhabitants of the castle.   
“Hello!” A light flickered in the distance, he was sure! He pulled his navy cape around him - his white shirt was definitely too thin to shield him from the icy chill of the castle - and hurried after the fading glow. Hoping against all logic that it was his father.   
It led him to a small winding staircase hidden behind a door which he had to shunt open. Dust fell onto his clothes and he tried to brush it off - to no avail. He followed the light up the stairs, tripping every so often from their unevenness. “Hello?” he cried, “Please! Wait?” He climbed the stairs with determination. He would find his father.  
“Beau?” A weak voice cried from above. Beau clambered up the last few stairs and crossed the room. They were so high up he could feel them swaying in the breeze. He shook in terror.   
“Papa!” He cried, flinging himself across the room and desperately trying to open the door. “What happened? Is this a cell! Oh Papa!” A hand emerged from the bars at the bottom of the door. Beau held it in his own.  
“You must leave, my boy!” His father said worriedly.   
“Why?” Beau furrowed his brow. Maurice coughed. “You’re not well father, who did this to you?” He said in anger.   
“It is not of import. You must go! Quickly. Before he comes back!” He pushed Beau from his grasp. But it was too late.  
The candle was blown out by a strange gust of wind and the moonlight obscured by a dark shape.


	5. Five

“Who is it? Who’s there?” Beau called out into the darkness, something shifted.  
“I’m the master of this castle.” An inhuman growl answered him and he shrunk back against the cell door. What was this creature?   
“I’ve come for my father. Please let him out. Can’t you see that he’s sick?” Beau implored, clutching his father’s cool sweaty palm in his own shaking hand.   
“Then he shouldn’t have trespassed here!” He snarled.   
“But he could die.” the man huffed in indifference, Beau sighed. “Please, I’ll do anything.” He said quietly.   
“There’s nothing you can do.” He quickly replied, shocked by Beau’s selflessness. “He’s my prisoner.”  
“There must be something!” Beau cried, hugging his father’s hand to his chest. “Something I can do. Wait!” Beau swallowed nervously, hyper aware of the cold breeze on his exposed ankles. “Take me instead…”   
“You?” The man sneered, then after a moment of hesitation. “You, would take his place?” He seemed surprised.   
“No! Beau! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Maurice pleaded.  
“If I did, would you let my father go?” Beau said, ignoring his father’s warning.   
“Yes.” The man could have nodded, but Beau didn’t see him. "But you must promise to stay here forever.” His voice was raspy, unused.  
Moonlight cascaded through the window and the man shrunk from its glow. “Come into the light.” Beau said.   
“No! Beau!” His father begged. “I won’t let you do this!”   
Beau stepped into the light. The man was cautious, stepping into the light; almost nervous. Surely not.   
Beau wasn’t short. But this man was taller. Over six feet. His chin would comfortably rest on Beau’s head. Beau looked up with trepidation. At first the man looked normal: Shoulder length dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes, but one was clouded. The moonlight illuminated the right side of his face and Beau gasped. A hideous scar ran from his collar right up to his hair line, zig zagging across his eye socket. Rendering him blind in one eye. The scar was healed but the skin shone unnaturally. Beau wondered whether it continued beneath his collar.   
His father groaned in distress.   
“You have my word.” He stammered.  
“Done!” The man snarled, pulling his cape around himself sharply and quickly making his way over to the cell. He opened it up with a clunking noise and Maurice was released.   
“No!” He cried falling into his sons open arms. “Beau, listen to me. I’m old! I’ve lived my life…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the man dragged him out by the scruff of his collar. Still crying for his son.   
“Wait!” Beau said desperately.   
“Beau!” The man struggled. “Please, spare my son! Please."  
Beau, distraught with the loss of both his freedom and his father. Fell to the ground, unable to hold back his tears.   
“He’s no longer your concern.” The man said, throwing Maurice to the ground. “Don’t come back.” He handed Maurice Phillipe’s reins and pushed him out of the gates. Locking them behind him.   
“Please!” Maurice cried desperately.   
“Leave!” The man boomed. Louder than thunder. Phillipe bolted with Maurice barely managing to hold on through the thick foliage. The man’s animalistic roar scattered the wolves. Maurice could hardly keep track of where they were going.   
When he returned to the tower, he found Beau sobbing, curled into the corner of the tower room. For a moment, guild crossed his face.   
“You didn’t even let me say goodbye.” He whispered. “I’ll never see him again. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Beau choked back a sob.  
“I’ll show you to your room.” He said, holding his hand out for Beau to take.   
“My room?” Beau furrowed his brow. “But, I thought?”   
“You want to stay in the tower?” The man asked, harshly removing his hand.   
“No.” Beau quickly replied.   
“Then follow me.” He turned, his cape flaring behind him and Beau was obliged to obey. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps it was a trick… Beau’s steps became more cautious as he navigated the narrow staircase. They reached the bottom and Beau struggled to follow the ragged man through the castle. Through winding corridors and strange passages.  
“I, uh, hope you like it here. The castle is your home now,” He broke the silence. “So, you can go anywhere you like.” Beau nodded as he ducked under the door frame.   
“Thank you,” He said as the man held the door open for him and closed it firmly behind him. They were in a bigger corridor now, one Beau recognised from earlier.   
“Oh! Except the west wing.” The man added casually.  
“What’s in the west-“  
“It’s forbidden.” He roared. “Don’t ask my about it again.” He stepped further ahead, leaving Beau behind and terminating the conversation. They continued into another large corridor, adorned with beautiful paintings. Some of which had been clawed out of their frames. Beau shrank back in fear. Still only lit by moonlight through the dirty windows, this place was creepy.   
“If you need anything, ring this bell for me.” He said pulling a string near to the door frame on the inside of Beau’s new room. It was a huge room. With a giant fire place. Still cold, Beau searched for a lighter. “Dinner.” He heard the man whisper to himself from the other side of the room. “Invite him to dinner!” He was talking to himself. Perhaps he was mad? “You will join me for dinner.” He said confidently. Before Beau had time to reply he was closing the door. “That is not a request!” He added, Beau didn’t hear a lock click shut.  
He threw himself down on the dusty bed, and wept for the loss of his father and his freedom. All in one day!


	6. Chapter Six

The room was pretty dusty, it would have been nice a long time ago. Beau traced his finger through the inch of dust that had settled on the fireplace. No luck finding any matches. He was freezing. He shook the bed covers and wrapped the quilt around himself. 

The man was pacing in his dining room, the fire burned bright as the evening grew darker. Where was he?   
"Of course I have, I'm not a fool." He muttered to himself in the dim light. Fingering the rips in his dirty shirt.   
"Oh, it's no use! He's so beautiful and I'm...well look at me!" He swept his hand across the table, a silver platter clattered on the stone floor. He appeared to be listening to someone talk, then he replied.   
"I don't know how." He sighed, resting his head in his hands, then looked up and smiled. He shook his head, that wasn't right. He nodded as if taking advice and then smiled more gently this time.  
A few moments passed before he became impatient. "Where is he?" He suddenly said, his brow furrowing with barely concealed anger. He threw open the doors and headed up the stairs.

An angry knock jarred Beau from his activity. He was watching the gentle rain make its way across the window, like teardrops on an unblemished cheek.  
"I thought I told you to come down to dinner!" A booming voice startled him and yet the door remained closed.  
"I'm not hungry!" He wrapped the blanket around himself.   
"You'll come to dinner or I'll...Or I'll break down the door!"   
Beau could hear him muttering something else outside of his door, but was only able to make out a single voice. Who was he talking to?   
"Will you come down to dinner." He said through gritted teeth.  
"No." Beau replied, burying his face in the musty pillows.   
"It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner... Please."   
"No, thank you." Beau replied, bringing the pillow into his lap and cuddling it like a petulant child.   
"You can't stay in there forever!" He roared.  
"Yes I can." Beau said, shaking with fear...   
"Fine then! Go ahead and STARVE!" He growled, birds flew from Beau's window and dust fell from the chandelier. "If he doesn't eat with me, then he doesn't eat at all." The man growled through gritted teeth. Beau could just make it out through the thick door. Who was he talking to? No one replied. Beau heard his loud and graceless footsteps fading as he headed away from his room. 

"I ask nicely but he refuses! What does he want me to do, beg!" He shouted at his mirror and then smashed it angrily. His bedroom was a mess.  
It was dark and only the outline of the destroyed furniture could be seen. The dirty man curled into a bundle on the pile of cold sheets gathered at the crevice in his smashed bed.  
"I'm just fooling myself." He said softly, the moonlight reflecting in his crystal eyes. "He'll never see me as anything, but a monster." He curled tighter, pulling his cape around himself protectively and fell into welcoming sleep. 

"Gaston!" A beautiful woman cried.  
"Gaston!" Another joined in with the chorus.   
Gaston fell onto his chair in frustration, the floor boards creaking under his weight.  
"Gosh," Le Fou said, providing him with a beer which he threw into the fire. "It disturbs me to see you Gaston; looking so down in the dumps! Everyone here wants to be you Gaston, or at least be with you. Can't you see that? You're the hero of the town!"  
"Oh!" Gaston sighed, moving his chair to face the fireplace rather than the tavern. "What good is it! Who does he think he is? That boy has tangled with the wrong man." He said angrily, taking a beer from le fou's hand and downing it.   
"No one says no to Gaston!" Le Fou chipped in.  
"That's right!" Another man from deeper within the tavern chipped in.  
"Dismissed! Rejected! Publicly humiliated. Why it's more than I can bear!"   
"More beer?" Le fou offered.  
"What for! Nothing helps." Gaston turned his chair back to the tavern. "I'm disgraced."   
"Who, you? Man, you've got to pull yourself together. There's no man in town as admired as you, you're everyone's favourite guy." The tavern murmured in agreement.   
"Not to mention the fact that you're so handsome!" One of the girls cooed.   
"As a specimen yes, I'm intimidating!"   
"My what a guy, that Gaston!" The tavern raised their tankards in agreement, merrily drinking to their favourite town hero. 

"Someone please! Help me!" Maurice burst through the tavern doors, his nose red from the cold.  
"It's my son! He's got him locked in the dungeon!"  
"Whoah, slow down Maurice. Who's got Beau locked in a dungeon?" Gaston pushed through the crowd and watched the tired old man pull himself up from the floor with amusement.   
"A beast." He said simply. Gaston snorted with disbelief. "A horrible monstrous beast!"   
"Is it a big beast?" A scrawny man by the name of Dick butted in.   
"Huge!" Maurice shuddered in memory.  
"Any ugly beast?" Another man joined in with the taunting.  
"Hideously ugly!" Maurice nodded in agreement.   
"Keeping poor innocent Beau locked away so he can have his way with him."   
"Please! Will you help me?" Maurice begged.  
"Ah right, old man. We'll help you out." Tom and Dick seized Maurice by his under arms and dragged him to the door, throwing him out into the cold.  
"Crazy old Maurice." Tom shorted, returning to his beer.  
"Crazy old Maurcie. Crazy old Maurcie." Gaston smirked. "Le Fou, I'm afraid I've been thinking."   
"A dangerous pastime-" Le fou's nasal voice whined.  
"I know! But that whacky old coot is Beau's father and his sanity's only so-so." He smiled maliciously. "Now the wheels in my head have been turning, since I looked at that loony old man. I promised myself I'd have Beau as my rent boy and now I'm concocting a plan!"   
"No one plots like Gaston!" Le fou complimented.

"Will no one help me?" Maurice called to the darkening sky as he headed home in the heavy rain, shivering with the penetrating cold that was seeping into his elderly bones.


	7. Chapter 7

Beau opened the door a little more, peering timidly into the dark corridor. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and a wolf howled. Beau waited for silence and then cautiously stepped outside of his room. It was freezing. He shivered and pulled his cape tighter, hopefully he would find a fire somewhere in the house. He pushed onwards, across another badly lit corridor and down a staircase.  
   
The windows were so dirty that only the most tiny slithers of moonlight were able to light his way, he still hadn't spotted a single match or candle.Suddenly the moon went behind a cloud and he was plunged into darkness. He span in a panic and when the light returned found he was facing a trashed painting.  
   
He reached up gingerly with his free hand, the other clutching his cape, and re-aligned the tear with the rest of the painting. It was huge, something only found in the home of royalty. He squinted as he tried to make out the subject. A boy, a prince? He waited for the next cloud to pass and then looked again. A young boy wearing a crown of glittering gold. He stood next to another man, older...perhaps his father? Beau saw something he recognised in the eyes of the boy but his stomach growled loudly and he knew it was time to continue on his mission for food and warmth.  
   
A sign marked the entrance to one of the halls. It wasn't as tall as the main room and Beau felt a little claustrophobic as he entered. He wiped the dust off the sign, 'Kitchen'. Perfect. He briefly wondered whether or not there'd be any food, but kitchen's always have food! Right?  
Who would stock it? Surely the man that had interacted with Beau would have no use for these cupboards.  
He stepped into the kitchen and crossed the tiled floor. An agar, the size of a fireplace was cold to the touch. Beau reached up to open one of the cupboards and was greeted by squealing rats , he reeled back and rested against a work top, his hand sinking into a mouldy loaf of bread. He pulled back immediately, accidentally jolting the pans, which clattered together. He tried desperately to silence them with his hands. He wiped his mould covered hand on a tea towel he found hanging from the agar and looked in another cupboard.  
   
This cupboard was filled with jars of all different shapes and colours. Beau pulled one out into the light. Gherkins? He shook it a little and the syrupy liquid shifted in the jar. Euck! He placed it back in the cupboard and closed the door.  
He tried a few of the drawers but only found cooking implements and cutlery. Eventually he was able to locate a glass and he prayed to an unknown god for clear water as he turned the tap.  
A chugging noise erupted and Beau hissed in distress; what would the man do if he found him here? Would he be mad? He had said the castle was Beau's home now but... Water cascaded into the glass. Beau sipped it tentatively. It didn't taste poisonous.  
Perhaps if he looked a little harder he'd find something to eat. If only he'd taken the offer of food earlier: What a fool he had been!  
   
Beau continued to explore the castle, having finished his water. Almost immediately he saw the sign; half obscured by dust, above the huge hallway lined with armour clad figures.  
'L---ry'  
He couldn't see the rest of it, and he certainly couldn't reach it. He headed down the corridor. Soon he approached another sign. Detailing that this hallway was in fact the entrance to the west wing.  
"I wonder what he's hiding up there." He whispered, curiosity burned his insides and he turned and sceptically approached the staircase.  
   
This part of the castle was some how colder, smashed windows allowed the breeze to ghost across Beau's exposer lower legs. He padded softly across to the other side of the hall to look at another painting. It was that boy again, older, but unforgettable.  
He pulled the fabric of canvas off of the floor, where it fluttered with the breeze, and fit it with the painting like a beautiful puzzle piece...Blue eyes and blonde hair, shoulder length and neat. Beau could've sworn he recognised him. His angular features prominent even though he could not have been older than fourteen. He was sitting a top a beautiful black horse and holding an ornately decorated sword. Lightening interrupted Beau's thoughts as the gentle rain turned malicious.  
   
He continued down the corridor, passing statues and suits of armour that stared at him as if they might come to life and attack him at any moment. Finally he reached the end of the hallway. A huge dark wood door loomed above him. Lion headed knockers mocked his presence. And yet, it was already ajar...He pushed it open further and slunk into the dark room. Something felt wrong and immediately he knew he shouldn't be here. He pushed past the anxiety and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.  
   
A bed, split across the middle, the covers dirty and pooled on the ground. A sleeping figure erupted from them and pinned Beau to the wall. The man!  
"Why did you come here?" His voice was laced with barely suppressed anger.  
"I'm sorry." Beau shuddered as he released him. He fell to the ground.  
"I warned you never to come here!" He said, his hands curling into fists. He began to pace across the room.  
"I didn't mean any harm!" Beau pleaded.  
"Do you realise what you could have done!" He smashed his hand down on the side table and it split in two.  
"Please, stop! No!" Beau cried, frightened for his life.  
"Get out!!!" He cried, throwing the smashed furniture onto the balcony where it clattered across the rooftops. "GET OUT!!!!!"Beau fled from the room but he could still here the man screaming.  
He ran all the way down the stairs and out of the door into the dark night, across the bridge where he flung open the gates and fled to the forrest, safe from the man's wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took me a million years to update.  
> Please forgive me :)


	8. Note

Heya readers, I'm Iron_Mage an irl friend of & occasionally beta for Ill_write_it. 

Due to some irl stuff unfortunately Ill_write_it has been completely cutoff from the internet for the foreseeable future & thus I suggested that I act as a go between for him and type up, beta & post any of his writings from now on. To say updates will sporadic would be an understatement as I have limited contact with him & am both dyslexic (among over learning disabilities/ND stuff) & can barely read Ill_write's handwriting + my final exams are very soon meaning I'll have little time to spare & devote to this (read: I'll probably procrastinate revising and work on this instead lol). 

I plan on printing any comments & feedback/reviews for him to see + some fics & writing prompts for him to read & be inspired/motivated by. Thus i'd love if you guys would show as much support as possible for Ill_write while he goes through this particularly shitty period of his life by leaving said comments (even if it's just a smiley, <3?or links to quality memes) & maybe even some Supernatural &/or Blue Exorcist fic recs (he loves Nekos). I'm sure such content will help get the creative juices flowing ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

I'll hopefully next have contact with him around mid to late April so the quicker the comments the more likely they'll be seen & responded to.

(P.S. I meant to have posted this ages ago but saved it in drafts to look over the next day for mistakes & totally forgot I hadn't actually posted it properly...  
ill_write_it will kill me when he finds out XD rip my ADHD ass)


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